Journal Entry #92: Goth Club & Whiskey

“Whiskey?” The question was followed up with the swirling of the amber liquor in its bottle as Aniks proffered it to Naseem. “Shard-free, I ran this and some other food through the lantern's light.”
 
Pharasma's Champion earnt himself a blink of red eyes with that. "Do you always travel with whiskey, or is that just for when you're going after soul-eating monstrosities?" Naseem asked wryly, putting down the bedroll he'd been unravelling to reach for a set of travel glasses stowed in his bag of holding and offering one to Aniks. "You might as well sit down if we're doing this," he added almost as an afterthought.
 
“I’d be a shit bartender if I didn’t.” The drow sat down, after taking the glass Narseem offered and handing him the bottle of whiskey. Aniks looked over the room, not really paying attention to any one thing. “Soul-eating monstrosities or not, the job does have some perks when I travel.”
 
Naseem gave him the side-eye as he, too, properly sat, no longer wrestling bags or tents on his knees. "What's with the bartender thing, anyway? Your friends were talking about that when we were in the uh, demon lord's.. bar... place. Did the Lady decide she wanted to take the idea of a last drink and put a champion mark on someone who delivered them, or something?"
 
Aniks looked like he was considering that for a moment. "No, the simple answer is I own a tavern. That's where some of this group found me." He gestured with the glass to the Paladin, Gunslinger, and Druid. "On a similar note, Goth Club?"
 
The simple answer was clearly noted in the way Naseem looked at him, evidently weighing up the decision of asking for more information and decidimg against it. "It's not really as huge a deal as you strangers seem to think, but there's no need to tell the rest that. It's pretty much exactly what it says on the tin. I'd just started on convincing Ceyannan to join when everything fell to pieces, even. They fit the goth vibe, don't you think?" His smirk was oddly toothy, exposing sharp fangs. Aniks knew their like far too well.
 
"Most psychopomps fit that description, and we're not helping deny that any." While not in gothic attire, he did often dress in black. The grin was noted, but he had know plenty of vampires and dhampir. He simply said "They would make a pretty good fit, Ceyannan was never one of the Ushers I meet while I was at the boneyard. Have you ever been? Spire's Edge has surprisingly good food."
 
Naseem's smirk was telling. This man was more than just familiar with the Boneyard, apparently. "Oh, plenty. Was a resident for a good while, actually. Not of Edge at first! That took longer, but I got there eventually. Honestly, could do without the attitude on some of the folk there." He shrugged. "You wouldn't have met Ceyannan on the plane itself, by the way, so don't feel bad for that. At least - probably not. They live elsewhere, so that's one less Usher you need to worry about. Some of the other ones are less fun, huh."
 
"Sounds like you've spent more time in the boneyard than I have. Can't really say spent that much time in Spire's Edge or around it's people. I spent more time in the Spire." Then rocked his head side to side. "The few Ushers I have meet have been... nice. I think. Couldn't really get a read on Minder."
 
Naseem gave Aniks a quick once-over, lingering on his neck for perhaps a second too long. "...Yeah, I hope I've spent more time there than you? You don't look like you've gotten sent back too often, or for too long. Huh, Minder.." He took a sip of the whiskey, letting the thoughts slosh around like the whiskey itself. "He's at least one of the more normal ones. I ran into Imot once. Try not to do that. They talk in.. pictures and stuff? It was weird." He shrugged. "You've gotten to deal with the Lady of Graves, though. I've not really seen her outside of that first judgment - her Herald, sure, but not her herself. How is it, getting to talk to Death herself?"
 
Aniks eyes rolled as soon as the Herald was mentioned and sipped the amber liquid in his glass, enjoying the burn as it went down. Letting out a breath once the warmth faded.
 
"I was wondering about that. The 'took longer' part to get to Spire's Edge but make sense now. Pharasma doesn't usually keep me that long, unless she has something cryptic to say. I think I've spent a year in a half if my counting was correct?" It was the last part Aniks paused for. He held up the glass looking into the whiskey. Remember a different shard of glass he recently held. "Cryptic and Formal. Like I have to dance around every word I use. She likes her coffee with more sugar than I thought Death would."
It wasn't certain which part had caught Naseem's attention more, but it looked like both his reaction to the Herald and the discussion of Death's coffee had drawn the dhampir's interest. "Hold on. The goddess of Death has you making her coffee? She can just create that. Why is she asking... Is she even asking, or are you just doing your bartender thing?" He looked very curious, actually. "I'm glad Ceyannan's not like that, though. They don't really.. care about formality. Not from me, at least. You might be a little different."
 
He glanced over to his demigod. Ceyannan had flown away from the centre now - indeed, all of the demigods had separated. Ceyannan had retreated to the side of the yamaraj, and seemed to be in quiet conversation with them. Of the others - Sinashakti had approached Talindë (and a sleeping Azsire, apparently), Socothbenoth had meandered over to listen in on Tejika and Cid, and Belial had swept over to the Medimian duo.
 
"So... what's with the reaction to the Steward?"
 
“We hate each other.” Aniks said in the same way someone might say they hate their neighbor. Then took another sip from the drink. “Got off on the wrong foot when we first met, and it never got better. I’ve yelled at her, we’ve fought, she's broken a couple of my bones, and every word from that iron angel is an insult in my direction.”
 
“Pharasma and I rarely speak on topics outside the realm of her responsibility, and the few times we have spoken like that were weirdly nice. Found out how she likes her coffee after judging a soul who owned a cafe. So I just made one for her the next time I saw her.”
 
That admission earnt Aniks a long stare as Naseem took a longer drink than was perhaps necessary. "Your god's herald hates you to the point of actually hurting you. The Lady of Graves doesn't intervene? That's just permitted?" A quick glance to Ceyannan again, any emotion tampered down to the usual placidity of a psychopomp's innate nature. "Fuck the coffee, how do you have any respect for a deity who treats you like that?"
 
“That’s a more complicated answer.” Said Death’s Champion as he gently placed the glass on the ground between his legs, his lips pressed into a thin line. Golden eyes trailed off looking at the divinity among them. There wasn’t any good way to explain his feelings to the gods. Aniks ran a hand through his hair “Setting aside Skein for a moment, I have respect for the purpose and position Pharasma holds, especially after she had me judge souls, but I don’t really worship her. I never have, not like the others worshiped their gods. Nor have I really worshiped any god for that matter. Our relationship isn’t like the other champions, for multiple reasons that are hard to explain.”
 
"I know things may be different for a Champion of an actual greater deity, but do you really set aside physical assault that easily?" Naseem didn't look impressed with any part of the explanation, twirling the glass around in his hands with effortless dexterity. "I'm the last person to judge you for not worshipping a deity, but that does raise a surprising number of questions. Like why she picked you, I guess, as a baseline. Something dictated by fate?"
 
“Asked her that, got the standard. Your mortal mind can’t comprehend why I picked you as my first champion, but more cryptic. As for the assault…” The drow paused to consider the first part again. Given their latest interaction, Aniks was willing to bet Skein was looking forward to the next time she could back hand him for that petty comment. “Yes? There have always been more important issues at hand than dealing with our mutual hatred for each other. While I was in the boneyard, Skein trained me. That’s where the broken ribs came from, Saloc stopped us from tearing into each other's throats the one time she hit me outside of her training. Her treatment towards me has never been important enough to deal with, not when the Shard exists. Wait, are you from this continent?”
 
The stares Naseem was sending Aniks were getting potentially a little worrying. "...My name is Naseem. I don't think that's a name found in a lot of other places. I mean, actually, maybe." He downed the rest of his glass, and set it aside on the grass. "Rewind a little. I get that Pharasma is going to be cryptic, but damn, that's.. nothing to go off. Ceyannan and I had an entire conversation and came to the decision together, and I have the option to back out. Or.. did have. I don't think that's possible right now; I do like having a soul." He breathed out slowly, measured. "And you shouldn't need to worry about getting too badly beaten during training. Nor should you need a demigod to step in to protect you. How about this - next time you have to go see that Herald, I'll come with." His smile promised innocence. His smile whispered pain. "Should make the session fairer, don't you think."
 
Aniks plucked the glass from the ground, not taking a drink yet. “Consider this ignorance on my part, we haven’t been on this continent or spoken with that many people for me to pick up on naming conventions. From what I have seen, the dark elves of Takawaoku have different upbringings than their Western Valathe counterparts. Which is to say, I am rather familiar with harsh and unforgiving training. We could go on and on about Skein. If you wish to help, by all means do as you wish I won’t stop you.”
That’s when Aniks took his longer sip, not exactly how he thought this conversation would be going. Then shrugged. Death promises him answers, and he has questions. Something, he felt like he’d be doing alone. Still he offered a smile back, while it would be amusing to deal with Skein with Naseem or hell the others around, Alas'thil were prideful drow. He silently admitted to himself, he wanted to beat Death's Herald. “I've asked Pharasma many questions, with similar results. Some I realized I should have asked differently after the fact. Though I will admit, I tend to ask very specific types of questions. Pharasma promised answers next time I returned to the boneyard, and it isn’t like she hasn’t helped me. When my wife was kidnapped to hell she provided her with aid. This… this isn’t how I expected this conversation would go. At all.”
 
The mention of Aniks's upbringing provoked a sobering of Naseem's expression, albeit a brief one. The dhampir didn't seem pleased to hear that Aniks's upbringing had been foul, too. That said, he wasn't going to linger on it. As Aniks moved past it, so did he, perhaps unwilling to leave the smile unanswered.
 
"Unfortunately for your planned topics of conversation, I'm a tricky bastard," Naseem allowed with a grin. "Fortunately, that still means interesting conversation - I hope. It's been interesting to me. For instance: your wife ended up in Hell? When you say kidnapped.. how'd that happen?"
 
The side eye towards the devil in the room was clearly intended to be noticed. None of the infernal trio reacted, thankfully.
 
“I didn’t have any planned topic.” Death’s Champion said with a smile, it wasn’t like he wasn’t smiling before. He had just been talking. “Only had one question coming over here. And it has been, I am glad that the champions of psychopomps are caring individuals. Let’s see, without giving away secrets that aren’t mine to give. We’ll say reality was a bit thin when it happened, or the spark that caused her to be kidnapped was when reality was a bit thin. A different companion of ours thought the devil they were talking to was a complex illusion caused by a trail. Not knowing the devil’s deal was in fact real, and when we finally made it back to bed after that adventure. Well the deal was not paid up, and the devil took the person with the most hellish ties. That at the time was the vampire next to me. What was a couple days for us to complete that deal, was months for her.”
 
Well, that certainly hadn't been the explanation Naseem had expected. He let the surprise show, eyes wide. "You have some very foolish companions," he muttered, glancing around the room at the gathered forces - the question of whom somewhat unstated. Then frowned. "You married a Hell-worshipping vampire? Was that the same one as the not-a-vampire over there that was practically attached to you earlier? Scythe girl?" He gestured over to where Celuriel had apparently fallen asleep, haphazard bedroll set up and lost child still lingering close to her.
 
“The very same.” Aniks said, sipping the whiskey. “But not hell-worshiping. Celuriel just had been the only one, at the time, who had ever made a deal with a devil. Making her easier to kidnap.”
 
Naseem gave him an evaluating stare, mentally working something out but being awfully quiet about it. "Was that deal how she got into or out of vampirism, then? Can't imagine you'd make a deal with something that powerful for something minor." He paused, waiting for Aniks to be mid-sip, then continued with a bitter grin. "It's kind of a good thing I didn't think of that, actually, when I wanted out of Vamp Club. Probably wouldn't be a Champion right now."
 
In the straight face Naseem had seen on Aniks, he turned and said “Okay, Vamp Club? Now your just fucking with me.”
 
The Champion of Ceyannan rolled his eyes with utter irreverence, his eyes lit with genuine amusement. After a cursory glance to check that nobody else was paying them much attention, Naseem reached a hand up to where the collar of his coat covered his neck, and yanked it to the side. Pinprick puncture wounds scarred ashen flesh, neatly avoided by the meandering lines and circles of a creeping Mark. One set of marks was far darker than the rest, the edges jagged with ancient force. Yet all were healed - only the scars remained.
 
"They didn't call it Vamp Club, but it pretty much was that," he said casually, putting the coat back where it belonged with an easy shrug.
 
“Vampires seem to be like that, one of the several groups we met were very interested in Celu. I think the longer we speak, the more questions we’re going to have for each other. But to go back to what you were saying.” Aniks cast his mind back, he couldn’t remember what the first deal was. He remembers what they traded for. “Celu was a vampire when I met her, and the deal was not to bring her back to life. To be honest, don’t even remember the exact deal that Pin made. Just that we had fulfilled our end of the bargain to get Celu back.”
 
"We're going to end up doing one of those question-for-question games, aren't we?" Naseem half-suggested, grin wry. "Honestly surprised a devil let you get her back. They don't like letting go of souls easy. Were you a Champion yet, then?"
"Seems like it." The drow said, then continued with. "No, I had just got free of one, and Pharasma hadn't claimed me yet."
 
"Free of one?" he repeated, cocking an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling that's an entire saga of its own?"
 
"It's actually quite short." He finished the drink, letting it burn on the way down. "Love whiskey. When my house's demon lord saw a chance to finally claim me, she did. I knew I'd fight on everything, and I wouldn't like the person I would become. So I used that to my advantage, my elder sister became champion, and we got my house's help and information for a task I needed done. My turn, how old are you? I can't get a good gauge on it."
 
Ah, demon lords. That would earn Aniks a look of consternation from the dhampir. "...It really shouldn't be possible for gods to just claim people like that," he muttered, sending a dark glance at an oblivious Socothbenoth. "Glad she switched. Kind of a fucked up situation, though."
 
To the question, he shrugged. "That's not really a question I know how to answer. I've been in and out of life and death for a while, and now the Lament's here to make it worse. Probably a century, maybe a few?" He leaned back, watching the emptiness of the ceiling above. Lights danced across it from the portals below. "Enough that I'm probably older than you."
 
"So, how'd you fix your wife's bitey problem?"
 
"Shouldn't be, but we fit certain criteria that allows them to mark our soul and gives us access to their power. " Aniks leaned back, palm in the dirt. He shook his head side to side. "She had fangs, wasn't that type of vampire. Feed off memories. An Eldest stepped in, if not for their help, she'd probably still be a vampire. They offered us a challenge, with the reward being her resurrection. It was almost immediately after she was brought back from hell. Hmmm, what was your first thoughts of your god when you meet them?"
 
"An Eldest?" That wasn't Naseem being impressed. He sounded wary. "That's a dangerous one. I've heard of what the fey can do. You're lucky, then. And we're lucky - lucky that none of our trapped deities are fey." He tapped a small ornament on his belt. For luck, perhaps. "As for meeting Ceyannan... Honestly, I was more surprised than anything. Overwhelmed, too. A.. lot had happened. They stayed with me while I processed. They're more mortal than most of the psychopomps, I think; it helps." He spoke with fondness, a smile playing around his lips. He didn't speak of his deity with outright reverence, but with clear and open care. "How did Pharasma make you her Champion in the end, then? I knew you were hers the moment I saw you, so it's been.. a while, right?"
 
"By claiming me after my second death. Whisked my soul away to her throne room. Left the boneyard as her champion when I was brought back. I think she had other opportunities to claim me, but never did. Maybe in death, no one else could stop her." Gods what was he at? Eight? That seemed right. Most of the fey comments were noted but not important. That last part had the dark elves attention. Then he looked at Naseem after doing some quick mental math. "Somewhere between year and half and two. So was it Pharasma's mark on my soul? Or something else that screamed I'm her adopted son."
 
"Yeah, about that," Naseem began, raising an eyebrow. "Your soul's bizarre and your vibes are weird. Ceyannan told me the rest. How the fuck did that happen?"
 
Aniks cursed in undercommon, is was slow and drawn out. Similar to how somebody would normally say 'fffuuuuuucck.' It was a close translation, this was about when Aniks picked the bottle and filled his glass again. This was a two whiskey glass conversation.
"Quick answers then. Atropos adopted me into the family, My soul's broken, I'm both living and dead at the same time, and I assume you're going to want to know the how to all of these?"
 
Naseem copied Aniks's motion, swirling the amber liquid in the glass as he took it up. "Yeah, storytime would be nice. Should we be in a corner for this?" Nobody was particularly close to them, but they were still fairly central.
 
“Now you can see why I might have a hard time explaining my relationship with Pharasma.” The drow stood, brushed himself off. He gestured with the whiskey glass to a corner a bit further away. One of the three things he wouldn’t like it talked about in the open.
 
"Corner booked for death duo private chat," Naseem muttered as they moved, lips quirked in an amused smirk. When they'd settled again, Naseem's cloak fluttering out behind him like tattered wings, he sunk back on his hands. "So, which was the worst one of those?"
 
"Finding out or figuring out what it mean?"
 
"...Yes?" He cocked a brow again. "I'm going to go with yes."
 
"The broken soul." Aniks said placing his elbows on his knees as he sat down. "I found out I was reading a text that only dead people could read, which led into the revelation of my soul being broken. Weird part is I still feel normal."
Naseem contemplated that. "Would you feel it? I got used to an undead's soul pretty fast. Maybe yours has been broken long enough that you don't know what it'd feel like whole."
 
"I'd hope so, and that does make sense." Aniks Admitted. Then offered a bit more "I never noticed when it broke, everything just felt normal. I think I know when it broke, but I can't be too sure. That is the main reason why I think the broken soul is the worse option. Because I don't know what it mean if I’m not right about when my soul broke, I should honestly look at my soul. Might find something in that."
 
"I guess that's a question to ask Ceyannan," Naseem said with a shrug. "Whether mortals feel pain if their soul is shattered. Logically, there's no nerve endings there. Maybe spiritually? Wait--" He eyed Aniks, amused. "You haven't checked out your own yet?"
A deep sigh escaped Aniks chest. "No I haven't. Always worried I see something I wouldn't like."
 
It was effortless, the way hollow, deathlike energy flickered with its haunting teal glow in Naseem's eyes, draining their usual colour to something more unsettling. Looking. The sight, one he'd clearly seen before, didn't seem to bother the other Champion.
"Yeah, I mean... I get it. That's a bit of a mess. I can describe it if you'd like a blunter rundown." He gave the drow a wry grin.
 
(Aniks felt a second pair of eyes settle on him in the same instant - across the room, Ceyannan had turned to watch what their Champion was doing.)
 
What was? Golden eyes turned to the congregation of psychopomps in the distance. To where that feeling of eyes came from. Locking eyes with the demigod for a moment. Huh that’s what it feels like.
 
The dark elf turned to the champion next to them, breaking eye contact with the divine psychopomp. “Sure, been meaning to before speaking with Pharasma again. Your god is watching us by the way. I felt it.”
 
Naseem looked away from Aniks's soul for a moment to give his deity a soft smile of acknowledgement. Ceyannan didn't smile in return, but the look was knowing. Naseem grinned back at Aniks.
 
"They're probably checking on what I'm using their power for. Maybe checking your soul too, if I'm so interested in it. It's very colourful, y'know. Definitely more.. fragments of glass coalescing in the shape of a soul rather than being whole, though." He considered Aniks's soul, eyes piercing through the drow.
 
"It really does kind of look like someone took a hammer to it. But there's a brightness that isn't Pharasma's keeping you together.. Dark greys and golds shepherded by a pale silver. Her colours are newer, protecting the outside like a shell. Like all Champions have, basically." He didn't sound like he was done with the explanation, but he'd paused to let Aniks react to that much.
 
Aniks eyes narrowed, pressing a single finger to his lips in contemplation. The dark elves expression became lost in the words of his fellow champion. Rolling them over his mind and comparing them to other souls he's view and other informaiton locked in that head of his. "Gods I wish I had know what my soul would look like before hand. If not Pharasma then what's holding it together... I don't... couldn't be" Aniks was muttering to himself. "Hold on. I need Silver."
 
He stood face full of contemplation. Striding off to where his wife and Nizar were sleeping, plucking the sheathed blade from the ground near where the two slept. He came back muttering something about colors and souls in undercommon. He placed the blade down without mentioning why he brought the blade. It was noticeably, not within arms reach of Aniks or Naseem. "You said colorful, what colors specifically."
 
It took longer for Nazeem to answer that - the shape of the words he mouthed changed as he went to say them, and he grimaced. "Well, apparently it's complicated," he announced, sending a puzzled look across the room to Ceyannan. "There's your colours, the greys and golds and so on, and the drow dusk-purple that marks.. whatever happened to the drow. And the silvery brightness, like I said, and Pharasma's colours. And there's a... Darkness. You know how oil can look rainbow? It's like that, I guess? I can't pick out a specific colour; new ones jump to attention every time I try. Yours is honestly probably the hardest soul I've tried to read save Ceyannan's - like, you've got layers and layers of stuff here. I don't even know where to look to find Ceyannan in you." He shrugged. "If we get out of here - souls are easier to read in the Boneyard. We could daytrip. What's with the sword, by the way?"
 
Complicated. At that word and Nazeem looking to his demigod, Aniks let out a sigh. What was Nazeem going to say that specifically caused Ceyannan to step in?
 
“Silver? If you had said a specific color that their soul has, They and I would be having a very long conversation.” Aniks said as his fingers drummed against his cheek. The Drow was puzzling out a working image of his soul in his mind. A few things didn’t add up here, his fingers stopped, eyebrows knitting together… “Couldn’t honestly tell you what I think is worse at the moment. Never heard or seen a darkness in a person's soul like you’ve described, and the dusky purple isn’t great. Nor is the silver color given context a wonderful addition to my soul. I’m not sure this helps me or not understand what happened to it. ”
 
The comment on Silver earnt Aniks a raised eyebrow, and a blink as Naseem properly looked at the sword. "What in the Astral is up with your sword?" he asked, a curiosity lurking in the question beyond the puzzle Aniks presented. "I don't usually see swords with souls in the first place. As for yours: the purple's at least nothing you did? That's on every drow I've seen. Probably some legacy from whatever happened to separate drow from elves." He studied Aniks's expression, likely putting his own conclusions together. "The darkness is.. weird, but then, so're we. Your soul is a tapestry of your life. Maybe it's been reborn? Would explain why you don't recognise half the issues, if they're from a previous you."
 
A thousand yard stare wasn't quite the right description for Aniks. The rhythmical beat of his fingers against his cheek stopped as soon as that word said. Reborn. Golden eyes were looking off in the distance at some unseen future only Aniks could see. Was it dread in his eyes? A spark of determination? Whatever that look had been it changed before he spoke. Whispered words more to himself than Naseem. "I'm going to ask her that. If this soul of mine had another life before mine, if my soul was shattered before I was 'Aniks' or when I was me."
 
The only person that he had shared that thought, his concerns about that idea, with was Celuriel. Then Aniks remained silent for a long moment, his hand drifted down from his cheek to just lay across his knee. Just looking to that point in the future were that question would be asked to Death herself. A hint of a wry smile crept across his face as he said. "Humor me for a moment. Go ask any of these demigods, if their any are still awake. If I've ever served them a drink to them in their planes."
 
The nice thing about talking to another Champion who'd evidently seen a fair bit was that Naseem didn't pry (much). He let Aniks think on the state of his soul without interruption, giving the drow time to process.
 
That being said, the eventual request didn't seem to enthuse Naseem. He glanced at the demigods: Socothbenoth (still lurking near Tejika and Cid), Sinashakti (talking quietly with a tired Talindë), Belial (locked in convo with Idonea and Cintha), and Ceyannan (speaking with their fellow psychopomps, and occasionally watching this conversation). "...I'd ask Ceyannan but I doubt they'd have been in a bar for you to have done that. Would you want to walk in on any of those other talks?"
 
"No... not at the moment." Aniks said after looking at each demigod. He hadn't really noticed what they were doing besides the Shepard. What had Naseem said before, something about Silver? Right. He asked about their soul. "Then I guess I should ask, current whiskey withstanding, have I ever served you a drink? Before all this?"
 
Naseem shrugged. "I don't think so. If our paths have crossed, I don't remember it - and besides, I'm not the greatest with pubs. Tend to get comments, y'know? Some people are weird about people who look a little different. You might have better luck with Tejika. She used to practically live in a tavern."
 
The barkeep plucked the whiskey glass from the ground, taking a measured sip before saying anything. Letting out a sigh " Maybe she has seen me." Aniks mused "Next time your near a tavern or bar, regardless of plane. Stop by, solid chance you'll see the complicated answer to the why I am a barkeep. What was it exactly you wanted to know about Silver? Their soul?"
 
Naseem eyed the sword. “I'll keep the tavern thing in mind, but as for that. I mean, swords don't usually have souls. Especially not weird souls. What happened to it?"
 
“To Silver, nothing.” It was probably best to ease Naseem into the 'touching-the-void-and-two-dead-gods' thing. Using his one free hand to grab the sheathed blade. With a thumb, he nudged Silver up out of his sheath. Revealing a portion of the blade, and its light eating property. “They’re a black blade and to my knowledge were always like this, colors aside for a moment. Silver is a sentient blade. It would make sense for any sentient weapon or any sentient item to have a soul.”
"Right, but most sentient weapons don't have souls that look weird as hell. You've looked, right? What did you see?" Naseem wasn't making any effort to hide the vague suspicion he evidently held.
 
Silver, meanwhile, cackled at Aniks. Looooving the goth friend. Adding to the collection? His clothes are just as edgy as your cloak! Fits perfect with your hot wife and vamp boyfriend, right? Why's HE got a scythe when you don't? I told you that felt like a Death thing!
 
Said edgy cloak was currently being used as a blanket by his said hot wife. A comment that caused Aniks to slam the blade shut, glaring at the blade. We’ve talked about your comments about my wife, and is that scythe envy I hear?
 
Once again Aniks took a glimpse at Silver’s Soul expecting to see the same soul of black and silver, with those red electric sparks. “Yes and unless something has changed, their soul is silver and black as the void with those red electric sparks. I still don’t understand the red.”
 
WAIT WHY CAN'T I CALL HER HOT? I'M NOT FUCKIN' FLIRTING WITH HER I'M JUST CALLING IT LIKE IT IS. Man I figured you'd be FINE with that! The sword was only muffled via the closing of its sheath. Unfortunately, it was still audible to Aniks. Maybe it IS scythe envy. Maybe I wanna get to reap souls sometimes, ever think of that? We should fight more people! Scythes get USED more! Ah, apparently this was an act for attention.
 
Naseem, oblivious to the utter shenanigans taking place, glanced with those soul-seeing eyes down at the blade again. "Right. Most swords don't have void in their souls. Let alone such a.. vortex of power. The movement's honestly dizzying. Interesting that we see it slightly different. Must be the different sources, right?"
 
Why? She’s my wife that’s why, last time I let that comment slide. It didn’t just stop at ‘your wife’s hot.’ And before we even get into the soul re… Aniks had stopped paying attention to an attention seeking sword, Naseem had said something that caught his attention. Filing any idea of a second sentient sword or construct they could get along with in some part of his mind for later.
 
“Sorry? Silver being distracting, has a bit of scythe envy.” As if that explained everything. Then started drawing a few circles in the ground with a finger. “Vortex of power? I wouldn’t describe silver’s soul as a vortex of power. Even if that were true, I’d never admit it. Too much of an ego boost.”
 
"First thing's first--" Naseem's scythe moved in a blur, practically slicing the very air itself. It came to a stop at his side, well-controlled and shimmering with an unusual magic. "She is beautiful, isn't she? Your sword's right to appreciate her." He grinned. Even sitting down could not halt Scythe Shenanigans, apparently.
 
I bet his wife would be hot. I'd say hotter than yours but yours apparently ISN'T HOT. That's a fucking sweet scythe! Why don't you do cool moves like that with me more?! Silver was incapable of shutting the fuck up.
 
"As for the sword's soul, I mean... I tend to see souls with a fair bit of movement. This one, it's a vortex of darkness and silver.. and like you said, crimson lightning. That's wild. Does Pharasma help you figure out what soul signs mean?" He looked as if he'd already resigned himself to the impending disappointment of an answer.
 
Oh I’d stuff you into a shadow if I could. Thought the drow as he pulled out the blade, he wasn’t even going to dignify a response to their comments about Celu. The elf was gorgeous and Silver was upset about Aniks calling them out. Unsheathed, Silver dimmed the light around them, like a thin blanket of shadows. Aniks hadn’t looked at his own reflection, but the temptation was growing. Instead his soul sight Aniks watched Silver’s Soul. Aniks held the blade out, half tempted to make good on his mental threat…but Aniks thought better of it.
 
“No. Her help in my education was how to judge a soul, the person, not how to read a soul. I’m self educated in that field, I understand most of what I see. Even Silver’s soul. I have a decent explanation for most of what’s happening, but not an answer as to why. Mine not so much. I am curious about how you were able to read Ceyannan’s Soul. Demigod’s soul just blind me.” Aniks answered, from the look on Naseem’s face he had expected that response. Then looked at the scythe, it was different from the elegant weapon Celu held. “She is well crafted, though I can’t ever see myself actually using one. Blade’s like this have always just been more comfortable, well technically two blades.”
 
Try it, watch what happens! the sword taunted. Silver's soul looked the same as ever to Aniks - dark, with the red lightning that earnt the blade much suspicion. The sword preened under the attention, somehow.
 
Naseem didn't hide his disapproval at Pharasma's methods. "I question why she never taught you that.. especially since you can see corruption with our vision. That's an odd choice. But then - a lot of her choices related to you seem... questionable. Just what is the plan, I wonder?" He shrugged, contemplative, but not sharing every thought. "As for Ceyannan's soul... I mean, it was with their help. They wanted me to have the ability, and we were in the River at the time, so it was already blinding to turn on the Sight. It took a while to make it bearable, and they dimmed their own light for a time to make it easier.. but the outcome's been fantastic; I can look at them without my eyes trying to burn themselves out of my skull, and it mostly translates to others as well. We figured it'd be useful, in case we ran into something dangerous. Didn't expect the danger to come so suddenly." Another shrug.
 
"Also: Two blades, not one? Does your sword duplicate, then, or did you lose one? My scythe's not the only weapon I use, but she's defiitely my favourite. There's something fitting about sending souls back to the River by reaping them properly."
 
“The cryptic goddess of death has informed me that I have an important role to play, but not much else.” Aniks said wryly. “Make sense that you’d have to build a tolerance to places like the River or looking at a demigod. Sounds like your sight is more developed than mine, I’ll have to work on that.”
 
Please, after that color draining trick you got and the green gem shattering, not stabbing you in the ground seeping with shardic interference. Then the idea of Silver duplicating was toss at Aniks which was both terrifying and got a laugh out of the drow. “No, Silver’s vessel isn’t even enchanted. Any magic Silver has, its product of our bond as a black blade. Save for the darkness, the metal just does that. So…” Aniks put both hands on the dusky purple leather of Silver’s hilt. As if he pulled them apart into two separate blades. “They can’t be duplicated. They're just a blade, but two blades are more comfortable because that’s what I used growing up. I've never used a scythe, and any Soul I've sent back I've never used a weapon.”
 
"More comfortable with magic?" Naseem asked, eyeing the hilt with some vague humour. "I'm.. surprised that's not even enchanted. Figured it seemed inherently enchanted, being intelligent and all. Black blades are a special case, aren't they? I can't really remember what I've read on them."
 
He spun his scythe idly, thinking back, but let the topic pass when no thought came to mind. "On the sight thing, though - if this goes well, maybe we can work on it together. Ceyannan will probably have to return to the Astral, so we won't have a demigod at hand, but I can try and teach what I've learnt. You can't become a spirit yet either, right?"
 
"Yes and no, to both of those questions." Aniks said scratching the back of his head, that would require a bit of a explanation. Then pulled a knife out of his boot looking it over. Aniks was pretty sure it was one of Celu's knives. "Silver and all of this magic was the result of touching one of the shard about two years ago. Before that I used knives, daggers, short sword things like that, but no magic. I still have to admit, having arcane power is nice."
 
Aniks' mouth formed a thin line, laying Silver across his lap. His fingers drummed across the woven gold pattern across the blade's fuller. Looking as if he was putting a mental puzzle together on becoming some form of spirit "Thought about that possibility, I can already touch ghosts as if they're a part of the material. Had some thoughts of what I could do hypothetically given the domains, still I tend to stay away from certain domains or ideas. For safety reasons. I tend to not want my soul interacting with anyone else, so no attempt at a spirit form. Was that how you were able to pass through the wall?"
 
Then using the knife, carefully looked at himself in the polished dagger to see if his soul had any differences.
 
Then the world went white.